


and you ain't got nobody

by Missy



Category: Archer (Cartoon)
Genre: Alcohol, Canon Is Crack, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, Fleeing The Police, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Ridiculous, Street Racing, Strippers & Strip Clubs, bar brawls, daring stunts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 14:16:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19174996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: Just another Saturday night!





	and you ain't got nobody

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Archer (Cartoon), Archer & Pam, Off the back of the latest season, I adore their friendship, so I guess...friendship? Drinking? Bad ideas?

The bottle was half-full when they got to the strip club, Archer hooting and shouting, waving singles around and he had his arm around Pam’s neck, his touch weirdly brotherly – well, it was properly brotherly to _someone_. 

They got a huge glass table near the stage, and there was more booze at the table immediately. Pam shoved the stuffed monkey she’d won at the boardwalk into the set facing her at the table, while Archer ordered them another round and private lap-dances. She asked for and received a steak bigger than a toilet seat, 

At least Pam thought it was, though her brains got a little fuzzy back when she did those lines of coke back at the El Camino. Time had a way of getting super fucked up when _she_ was super fucked up. Which made sense on some level, she decided – or would, when she was disappointingly and infuriatingly sober again.

Archer groped his way across the table, his voice at a dull roar. “Pam!!! Pam!! I’m gonna balance this chair on my chin!”

“Hah! More like you’re gonna break all of your teeth!”

“Pam, I’ll guarantee you this much – every single tooth in my head is going to stay where it belongs.” Archer, surrounded by strippers, was already tilting back and forth on his feet. And the chair that he was holding over his own head didn’t look stable at all. The girls oohed and ahhed as he took a shot of vodka before placing the chair on the tip of his chin.

“I bet you a steak bigger than my ass that you’re going to break your teeth.” 

“Hah, you’re so on!” Archer said. The chair was stable – well as long as he was holding on to it. Pam simply sat back and waited to collect her payment.

*** 

“Ow! Bitch!” 

She pressed harder on the gaping wound just above his nose and he grunted. “Uh oh! You’re still bleeding!” 

“Do you have to literally rub it in?”

“No, that’s Candy’s job.” She passed the young stripper who’d been rubbing her shoulders a hundred. “Thanks, babe, you’re great.”

The stripped rolled her eyes and rushed off with the money.

“Ha ha. Pain. Marginal pain.” Yet through the drug-induced haze of numbness, Archer was still wincing.

“Do you want to go to the hospital?” she asked. “Or I can sew you up in the car…”

“Please, no. Let’s …I don’t know, find more strippers, make out with them and challenge the bouncers to darts?”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Pam grinned.

*** 

Archer’s car took a hard curve and almost went ass over teakettle. He was hooting, sucking down Jack, and the bouncers were cursing behind the wheel of the Testarosa they’d hijacked from the parking lot for this street race. 

“Go Pam! Kick their asses!”

“I’m trying!” She grabbed the Jack from his hands and sucked the rest of it down before throwing it out the window. It shattered on the pavement, and from the alarmed sounds coming from the bouncers, had fallen into their paths.

But then sirens filled the air, and there were flashing lights bearing down on them. “We’ve got a bigger problem.” Pam said. 

“Pam, why are you stepping on the gas?”

Pam said, “Because I have priors and I’m not going to prison! Duh!”

“But we work for the government! Kind of!” He frowned thoughtfully. “How did you pass your clearance?”

“I’ve got some fake ID connections in Chinatown…”

“What?! And can I meet them?” he asked.

“Later! Strap in and hold on!” she demanded.

Archer let out a manly scream as they made it onto the highway on-ramp. Who knew where the hell they’d end up? 

*** 

One prolonged scream later, the two of them were trying to hide Archer’s car in the underbrush beside a very large moose. “I don’t believe we made it to the Canadian border in like, two hours,” Archer said. “I thought we were going to run out of gas!”

“Nah, I knew what I was doing – how to calculate speed versus octane,” she said. He blinked.

“Right.” That made no sense to him. Fortunately it didn’t need to.

Pam scoffed. “What, it’s easy! Do you think I’m stupid?” Pam stared him down, her eyes bright with anger.

“Never,” he said flatly.

She shrugged. Her sweater set was covered in grease. His suit had been torn at the shoulder and raggedly across the neck. Her hair was messy. Worse: their buzz was wearing off. “All I had to do was keep it under ninety and pump the breaks every ten miles. Now come on, let’s go on a snow crawl!”

“What’s a snow crawl?”

*** 

“What’s a snow crawl?!” Pam laughed as she shoved her head into a pile of shredded ice, which had been soaked in brandy and laced with acid. “You go from bar to bar until the morning and get shitfaced!”

Archer had two girls in short-shorts and tank tops sitting on his knees, “Snow crawls are awesome!”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet!” Pam yelled.

“Really?”

“No, that’s what’s playing on the jukebox!” she bellowed at him.

“Give me another quarter! I need some Kenny and I need him now!”

There wasn’t too much of a brawl when Danger Zone filled the air and Archer started dancing, bumping cattlemen off of the dance floor and ripping his shirt off. 

Not too much of one.

*** 

“Your mom’s sending a helicopter,” Pam said, hanging up the bar’s rather grimy pay phone. She took a look around at the destruction they’d wreaked – bleeding men in plaid shirts and women sitting in a dizzy mess, their tank-tops splashed with blood. “They’ll be here in an hour. 

“Good,” he said, flopping onto the only upright stool. “Ugh…blood in eyes.”

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches,” she said, and grabbed an old rag to treat the cut he’d gotten on the opposite side of his head.

And as they stood together, having instilled some respect into their syrup-headed opponents, Archer actually looked pretty happy. “Today was fun,” he said, and drank another fifth of brandy – the only unbroken bottle in the room. She pressed harder and, finally, Archer’s head clotted up. 

All in all, it wasn’t a bad Friday, she decided. 

Maybe a little bit boring.


End file.
